


in a wide sea of eyes

by weatheredlaw



Series: a thousand falling stars [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Memory Loss, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: “You are my husband, my partner, and my everything. I will be the same to you, no matter if you know me or consider me stardust.”





	

_in a wide sea of eyes  
i see one pair that i recognize_

 

* * *

 

Her Newt is starting to forget.

Not the important things – he knows her and their children, and their near-dozen grandchildren and now smattering of _great_ grandchildren (Tina swears she was just thirty the other day, and the she blinked and she’d gone grey and their children had graduated Hogwarts, and their grandchildren were getting _married_ and the twins were having their first Christmas—)

But her Newt is starting to forget the little things.

He turns to her one morning and says, “Tina, darling, have you seen my coat? I need to pop outside for a moment.”

She snorts. “Newt, it’s freezing outside. It’s been snowing all morning, don’t you remember?”

He frowns. “Has it?” A quick look out the window and a sudden expression of realization. “Oh! So it has,” he says quietly. “I could have sworn…just a spot of _rain…_ ”

“You love the snow. You said so all through breakfast.”

“Hm?” Newt looks at her, eyes rather distant before they regain their usual sparkle. “Oh, yes. I do love snow. Always my favorite weather, as a boy. Did I tell you about the time Theseus and his friends enchanted the ice on the lake back in school?”

“Yes,” Tina says, and leans forward to cover his hand with her own. “But I’d like to hear it again.”

 

* * *

 

She comes into his office, more a wreck than it usually is, to find him on his knees, dumping out a large box. “ _Bugger_ ,” he mutters. “Merlin’s _bloody_ twisted _beard_ —”

“Newton.”

He looks at her. “Porpentina.”

Tina sighs. “What on earth are you _doing?_ We have company coming over in twenty minutes, we promised we’d entertain the Potters—”

“Are they in _Dorset?_ What the devil are they doing here?”

Tina presses her lips together. “They’ve been here two days, Newt. You knew that. You saw them in at the train station.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember doing that. And I’ve lost my _watch._ The good one, the one Rudy gave me for Christmas last year, I can’t—” He watches, rather concerned as Tina takes his wrist and lifts it into sight, the watch there and ticking. “Oh…oh, dear.” Dejected, he sits back down on the floor. “Look at the mess I’ve made.”

“I’ll help you clean it up.”

“No, no. You…you go and get ready for the Potters. I’ve…I’ll just be a moment.”

“Nonsense, I’ll—”

“ _Please_ ,” he says, quite firmly, eyes closed and cheek trembling.

Tina nods. “Alright, darling.” She kisses the top of his head. “You take your time.”

And she doesn’t want to leave him there, rather lost and lonely looking among his papers and things, but her Newt is a stubborn one, and has only grown more so with age. She leaves the door open, though, and keens her ear toward his office, just to be sure.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t forget his creatures, a blessing Tina is certain to count. But it starts to trouble her when he sleeps an hour later or so each morning, or confuses his salts and sugars, or can’t find his glasses when they’re perched on top of his head.

Tina books an appointment at St. Mungo’s, and prepares herself for a battle. Her Newt hates the healers, hates bothering anyone with a problem that can’t be fixed with a stiff cup of tea or a shot of whiskey. Tina reminds him that most problems _can’t_ be fixed the Scamander way, something she had to press quite forcefully the winter before when he nearly killed himself with a cough.

 _Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn_ she thinks, and her daughter laughs and says, “Papa’s a Hufflepuff through and through.”

She tells him that she’s booked an appointment though, and is rather concerned when he doesn’t argue.

“Whatever you think is best, darling.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think so.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t think my mind is…is what it used to be.”

“Well no one’s is,” Tina says, now regretting her decision. “We don’t have to go, Newt.”

“We should. I don’t think whiskey would be so good for a forgetful old man,” he murmurs, and squeezes her hand.

 

* * *

 

“Honestly, Mr. Scamander, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.” The healer glances over a few things and sighs. “The amount of concussions you sustained during _both_ wars—” Newt ducks his head, going pink. “I’m surprised you remember your own _bloody_ name.”

“Quite well, actually.”

The healer sighs. “If it’s just situational memory loss I wouldn’t be too worries. S’long as you remember your brood and not to fall down the stairs, don’t fixate.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Tina asks.

Newt holds up a hand. “No, no. It’s quite alright.” He stands and stretches. “I feel rather spritely today. Could just be a spell.”

“It’s _not_ ,” the healer says. “It will likely grow worse before it gets better. And I’m not sending you out of here today with nothing.” He gives Tina a sheet of paper.

“ _Memory charms and enhancements?_ ”

“Things to do around the house, never on you or him though. The brain is rather fickle, even for a witch or wizard.” He sighs. “Mrs. Scamander, you must forgive me for saying such a thing, but you and your husband are _very_ —”

“Preemptively forgiven,” Newt says cheerfully. “No need to say the words. We’ll take these and be off.”

The healer calls after them, “ _Don’t you dare drink whiskey Newton Scamander! I’ll call your son, you know I will!_ ”

Newt grins and waves. “And please send Rhys our regards!”

The second they get home, he pours himself and Tina a glass each.

“To our health, darling.”

“Long may it last, my love.”

They drink.

 

* * *

 

But, as with all things, this, too, fades.

Theseus passes in the spring, and Newt, for all his fortitude and good spirits, cannot seem to get past it.

He is melancholy through the summer, and Tina isn’t sure how to deal with the spells of memory loss.

He writes to his brother, occasionally, in between writing the new version of _Fantastic Beasts_. Still, his memory for his creatures and his craft is strong, but where there is pain, there are weak points.

Rhys doesn’t call or write as often, and Newt frets in ways he didn’t before.

Rolf doesn’t bring the twins by as often, and he wonders if they’re alright.

And the letters to Theseus go unanswered, and Tina burns the returned ones in the fire, before he can see.

 

* * *

 

Today, her Newt has long since forgotten what he had for breakfast, though Tina reasons this is quite normal as she can’t really remember what she had either.

He has remembered as he always does to check on his creatures, and he has remembered that he must make arrangements for them, as their care and upkeep has become quite difficult.

“Rolf could take some, and his friends as well,” Tina muses. They sit in their chairs by the fire, hands clasped together.

“Very true.”

She looks at him. “That isn’t what’s bothering you, is it?”

He shakes his head. “No, not particularly. I’m only…I’m worried I may wake up one morning and not know anything at all.” Newt looks at her, eyes welled with tears, and Tina feels her own reciprocate. “I’m worried I might break your heart.”

“Oh, _Newt._ ” She takes his other hand. “You could never.”

“I managed it many times before, when we were young.”

“That is hardly the same. You’re mine,” she says. “And you will be, whether you know me or not.”

“I worry about breaking my own heart.”

She sighs. “I can’t stop that.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

Tina goes to him, painfully bending down on her knees between his own and lifting his hands to her cheeks. “You are my husband, my partner, and my everything. I will be the same to you, no matter if you know me or consider me stardust.”

“Tina…”

“I love you, Newt. I have had your children—”

“ _Our_ children, I keep telling you that—”

“And I have made this house and protected this family alongside you. Nothing, memories or not, is going to change that.”

He leans forward, tipping his forehead against hers. “Do you mean that?”

“With all my heart.”

He nods. “Alright. I won’t worry on it any longer.”

And though Tina wonders if he might forget that promise –

Years go by.

And he does not.

Some things, she supposes, like breakfast and watches and whiskey, are meant to come and go.

But these things, the things they made _together_ – those are meant to stay.


End file.
